1_van zante’s peasants
i stand at the wall and look through the hole, down the slow, sunny hill. the city is blue and glass green today. at the top of the wall, 7 meters up, creep plants and a crowd of loud birds.
i walk to the right for some 700 meters, where the wall was broken, at the moment_monument – anachronism as ever poppy – and step down, to the hot_orange gate. the red_blue_white strips of both flags keep changing positions, as they did at the station screens.
one and a half km under a sun – not pretty – the damn cap didn’t cover my nose completely. at the gate, the control is not as dry as the weather, their eye_chips checking my last operation_survive, and all my stuff.
“wha’s dat in ur tooth?”
“hum, eh – yes, the tong chip, i’m a writer.”
he grabs my left arm, pushes it around like a tango master, and lifts the hair of my neck as if we were lovers dancing. i think of momo, her eyes shine on me, the sun.
two of the border_bosses laugh while he scans my neck_implant with his left eye, his right eye down my body. the price of a downtown trek. it used to be worse, something’s been happening.
i need to find xenia.
the main street is a flesh river flowing, running into many alleys, every time the shock of the massive human presence in the cities.
“excuse me, please, do you know where the chip bib is?”
“su’, bae! see da’ round fountain o’er dere, the c’ntrol mon’ment? ‘hen to da left a bit, you see da big chips.”
the siena quarry tiles around the fountain in turquoise green always remind me of our deep forest, our moss the same colour, growing at the bottom of dark tree trunks, with petroleum_vert thick leaves. i survive mostly of those mosses and leaves. the wood is good for disinfecting teeth.
when i turn the corner down at the turquoise fountain, i immediately see the giant monkeys on both sides of the outer gate. they turn their rock_head at me down bellow, and show me their teeth in a huge, threatening smile.
the chips between their brows turn red, scanning my brain for troubled thoughts.
a voice comes from their stone mouths:
“how u know xenia?”
“wha’ u wan’ wit ‘er?”
“i sing for my secrets and love, nahnahnah..”
the hot_orange gate slides to the side just enough for me to pass, and closes at my back with a woosh. yellow lights start to glow on the ground, going to the right. i follow them.